It Bears Repeating
by dreaming.in.sepia
Summary: AU from 'Passion' (2x17) onwards. The fight between Jenny and Angelus goes very differently and all the characters have to adjust, especially Buffy. Much Jenny/Giles, also Buffy/Angel (but less, and not as cute, because that's not possible).
1. Chapter 1

**I held out for as long as I could, but it turns out that wasn't nearly as long as I thought it was. Here is the first chapter of my Jenny/Giles unashamed fix-it fic, beginning with an alternative take on 'Passion' and continuing from there. I hope you like it - as ever, if you have any comments, questions, or angst about the demise of Calendiles post a review or message me! Thank you.**

He never knew exactly what it was that made him turn back.

If anything, he should have been racing home faster than he had before. Even faster than the time he'd got halfway to school and realised he'd forgotten his books, or the time he'd been worried there was a six headed monster under his bed because of a small translation. But he hadn't bothered tidying the flat for days, letting the books pile up in the corners and the empty bottles form a line on the counter as plate congealed in the sink. With no one else there to see the mess, why bother? Rupert Giles was well aware that this mindset was unhealthy, and illogical, and a betrayal to everything he normally believed, but the last few weeks had been full of betrayal and if wallowing in his own loneliness helped him to face its immutable truth, he would do his best. He was sad, and his house showed it

But she was coming over – to talk.

He had no idea what it was she wanted to say to him. There had been a gleam in her eyes when they spoke, a barely repressed excitement. He could see her tapping her feet and (adorably) drumming her pens while she spoke to him. It was most curious. As he considered what exactly it could be she wanted to say to him that could lead to such excitement, his thoughts began to wander elsewhere. It wasn't until he realised he was drifting into the left hand lane that he shook his head and reigned himself in, signalling to pull over on the side of the road.

'Damn Americans.' He muttered. 'Couldn't even pick the right side of the road to drive on'.

He checked behind himself, ready to leave again when suddenly it hit him. A wave of pure adrenaline: cool, clear, and sharp. It flooded his senses and pulled his muscles taught. He thrust his hand inside the habitual tweed and pulled out a stake, whipping his arm round to assault the inevitable assailant. A few seconds passed before he realised he really was alone in the car. No hidden vampire, no revenging demon, no eight headed monster. Just him and his Citroen, as ever. Frowning, he lowered the stake again and blinked confusedly. If there was no monster, why was he so alert? He was used to bursts of adrenaline, but this was something else. Normally they were easy to control, quick to pass and useful for sharpening his senses, but this had already begun to settle like a stone in his gut, weighing him down to the spot as slow panic spread through his system.

Lodging the stake back in its inside pocket, he reached for his glasses and removed them, wiping their lenses as his frown deepened. The fear refused to dissipate, only growing in clarity as he carefully polished the edge of the frame. Sighing, he replaced them, carefully adjusting the arms so they sat right.

And then he saw it.

In his panic to pull the stake out he must have dislodged the glove box. It had opened, spilling its contents over the passenger seat, and on top was a strip of photos from that infernal monster truck rally. Jenny had pulled him into the booth while he tried to balance the extra large soda and fries she'd insisted they buy ('it's for the experience, Rupert!').

He'd just settled himself down onto the extremely small and slightly sticky stool when she'd turned and kissed his cheek unexpectedly as the first of the camera flashes went off. The resulting photo showed his wide eyes and comically open mouth in full, monochrome detail. By the time the second was taken the soda was soaking into the ground and he was very much returning the kiss, his hands holding the sides of her face like he was drowning. As he gazed at Jenny's perfect profile and the spark of happiness burning bright in his face – the first time it had been seen for many years – he realised the truth that had taken him so long to find. He would have forgiven her had she been Angelus himself. He loved her with his heart and soul, and he forgave her utterly and entirely. He loved her.

And she didn't know that. Yet. She had to know. He had to tell her as soon as possible.

Grabbing the photo strip and tucking it in his pocket next to the stake, Giles slammed the car into drive and, tyres squealing, turned it round to hightail it back to the school. Had he been thinking straight he would have considered it likely she was on her way to his house now, and all he would be doing was confusing their trails. But he wasn't thinking straight. He was thinking of her, and the stone in his gut got lighter and lighter the closer he came to her.

As she ran through the corridors, her heels clacking on the tiles and fear clouding her vision, Jenny found herself detachedly considering her own death. She hadn't thought it would be like this. She wanted to die in bed, surrounded by love and fat grandchildren, but that seemed unlikely now. She knew there was no way she could outrun the vampire. Outmanoeuvre maybe, but he knew these corridors almost as well as she did and he had the considerable advantage of super strength and speed. She was a high school computer teacher in high heels. Maybe if she was lucky she could throw him off for a while and delay the inevitable, but that was all. Jenny Calendar knew she would die here and that knowledge drove away the fear. She would die here. That didn't mean she'd make it easy.

Her car was here. Why was her car here? The stone sank deep into his stomach again as Giles drove round to the side of the school and saw flames licking through the windows of the computer classroom. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Not even bothering to lock the car or take his key out the ignition, Giles threw the door open and ran inside the building.

He slammed into the door and Jenny felt a grim satisfaction. It was pointless certainly, but hell, if it was all she could do she would make her murder as difficult as humanly possible. Her heels beat out a staccato rhythm as she cursed herself for never just wearing sensible shoes. Even so, she managed to make her way up the stairs and was about to sprint down the corridor when she heard him.

'JENNY!'

For a millisecond she stopped, and the clear head mortal panic had given her began to cloud at the sound of his voice.

'JENNY!' she heard again, and there was no doubt now.

'RUPERT!' she screamed back, turning to run when she glimpsed a dark shape winging its way towards her out the corner of her eye. Summoning all her strength she ran towards his voice, calling out his name as she heard hers in reply. He was getting louder and louder and she was so close –

Then she turned the final corner and felt herself slam into someone. The hope in her eyes was replaced with terror as she looked up to see the dark, empty eyes of the man she'd failed staring back at her.

'Sorry Jenny. This is where you get off.' He intoned with no small amount of sadistic mirth in his voice as his hands reached around her neck.

Everything crystallised and time seemed to slow as she registered the pressure of his hands on the fragile vertebrae and tendons of her neck. She ran through a thousand scenarios, but there was no way to escape this. The cliche turned out to be accurate, and the past began slipping away in front of her childhood moving from place to place and her adolescence, moving to California and starting college on every grant they would give her. Discovering computers and feeling like she'd found her place within the world as part of her new coven. Agreeing to undertake her role as vengencer, failing cataclysmically at it, and him. His face. His green, green eyes and the love she saw reflected in them. That speech he'd given on books that made her stomach flop and the first time he kissed her in the photo booth. Their third date, their fourth. Him giving her one of the keys to his flat and the first time she stayed over. His face on the pillow in the morning, gazing at her. If she died now, thinking of him, she died happy. As the moment shortened and she felt Angelus's hands tense to deliver the final blow, his face swam even clearer into focus. She could smell him too - woodshavings and musk. Through the trance, she heard the apparition speak.

'Go to hell'.

As Angelus's eyes widened and he realised his mistake, Giles pushed his stake all the way in from behind. For one heart stopping second the pressure around her neck refused to fade and she thought he'd failed to hit his target. Her eyes widened even further and she briefly, morbidly, wondered if they'd pop out. Then with a sigh of anguish and a slight wind Angelus faded into ashes. As what was left of him dissipated, Jenny collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.

· PUBLISHED BEFORE HERE AS CHAPTER ONE

When she awoke, she was lying on her sofa with a blanket carefully draped over her. Something was whistling in the background, and as she blinked and her head cleared, she realised it was a kettle. That could only mean one thing.

'Rupert?' She called, and quick as a flash he was kneeling at her side.

'Jenny' he said, his voice filled with relief. 'How do you feel?'

She considered this for a millisecond, but there was nothing she could think of that even began to adequately express the waves rolling in her stomach or the way her heart felt like it had been kicked. So she went simple.

'Ok. I'll be ok. Rupert -'

'Yes?'

'I know where I am, I promise, but why am I here?'

His face clouded over and he looked down. She reached for his hand, resting on the side of the sofa. His palm was callused and rough, and she brushed her fingers over it curiously. Anyone who really thought he was a librarian (although in Sunnydale, who could really believe that?) should see his hands. They were the hands of someone who fought for their life, and fought hard. He looked up and smiled as he saw her gazing intently at them.

'Buffy keeps telling me I should invest in hand cream. Apparently I'll blow my 'cover' with hands like these.'

She quirked her lips at him and raised an eyebrow.

'Rupert. What is it?'

He sighed, looking down again.

'I hope you don't think it presumptuous that I came into your home without asking. I did take you to my place first, but - well, we weren't the first ones there.'

She frowned, and then it hit her.

'Angelus?'

He nodded slowly and sadly.

'There was music playing, roses on the stairs. I think he was planning a - a scene for me to - to come home to.'

'And I was going to be the centrepiece' she muttered, finishing his sentence aloud before the image hit her. 'Oh God, Rupert -'

She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand, feeling an answering pressure.

'How long was I out?' She asked, trying to block the mental image of her broken body lying posed as a plaything for a psychopath.

'Not long' came the response. 'Twenty minutes maybe? I drove fast. We both needed to get away from there.'

She nodded. 'And he's - he's -'

'Dead.' Rupert said grimly.

'Are you sure?'

'I watched him turn to ash and I saw his dust on the floor. I promise you Jenny, for better or worse, he's dead.'

She nodded again, but as she did so her face began to crumple in on itself. Silent sobs wracked her shoulders as she leaned into him and he ran his hand through her hair, trying to calm her.

'He – he was so close to – to - '

'I know.'

'If you hadn't been there Rupert – oh God, if you hadn't been there – '

'I know.'

A few more tears fell as her breathing began to steady, and she looked up at him, her eyes red and her nose running. Rupert reached into his pocket and handed her his glasses cleaning handkerchief without a second's hesitation. She smiled, and unceremoniously blew her nose on it before taking a few more deep breaths. He watched the tear tracks dry into silvery lines on her cheeks and, reaching over, tucked an errant strand of hair behind one perfect ear. She froze slightly at the motion, then lifted her head to look at him. Her shy smile almost set his heart on fire.

'Thank you England. You saved my life.'

A smile began to break its way through the clouds on his face.

'Well, you gave me mine. I was returning the favour.'

Jenny raised an eyebrow at him and tilted her head slightly.

'Not literally I mean, although - well, although, that is debatable. But, well - I - I was alone before I met you, and I thought I'd be alone forever and I'd made my peace with that. That it was part of my - part of my duty, my fate as a watcher. To observe and protect, not to get – well, involved. Then you started talking about technopagans, and cyber covens, and casting demons out of the internet, and I realised that I was very much not alright with it anymore.'

He paused and looked down, gathering his courage and removing his glasses with his spare hand. She squeezed the hand she was holding again, and he smiled and looked up. Jenny gasped slightly to see that his bright green eyes were filling with tears and suddenly she knew what he would say.

'I love you, Jenny. I love you more than I thought was possible for a - a dry old librarian like me. When I saw Angelus with his hands around your neck I thought for a second I'd lose you, and I snapped. You give my world colour, Jenny. You are - you are everything. I should have told you this morning, but I panicked. But nothing has ever come close to the fear when I thought I'd lose you. No demon, no vampire has ever made me as scared as Angelus did then. I love you. It bears repeating.'

The blanket beneath their hands was wet, and Jenny realised it was her own tears soaking through the wool. She sniffed, smiling at him.

'I'm sorry.' He said, and she went cold. He wasn't about to take it back, was he? Or tell her he loved her but they could never be together for some mystic reason? Screw mystic reasons. They needed each other.

Seeing the fear flash across her eyes, he shook his head quickly. 'Sorry, I mean,' he clarified, 'that I wasn't there sooner. Sorry it took me so long to tell you how I felt. Sorry it took so long for me to - to forgive you.'

She smiled, relieved. 'You saved my life, Rupert. Without you I'd be - well, we both know where I'd be.' She shook her head to clear the image. 'But I owe you my life. I should have told you the truth about who I really was sooner. I feel like I haven't been that person for years, and I tried my best to escape that life, that person. I would have saved everyone so much pain, but I was selfish and ignorant. But you only ever did what was right, and it's one of the reasons I love you. My feelings haven't changed from this morning, and truthfully, they haven't changed since our second date. I love you, Rupert Giles. Anyone who pretends to like monster trucks out of politeness is worth keeping.'

He sniffed, and now their tears were mingling on the blanket. Jenny reached her spare hand up and cupped the side of his face, wiping the tears away with her thumb.

In the background the kettle whistled, but they ignored it. As his hand caressed her cheek in the same way, she tilted her head and their lips met. It was a kiss filled with fire and fear, but above all she could almost feel the passion crackling between them on her skin. She had never kissed - or been kissed - like this. As they broke apart for air (and the kettle despaired of its existence), both were breathing heavily. Leaning forwards, she rested her forehead on his.

'I love you.' They said together, and it was both promise and truth.

For a few hours they managed to forget how close to destruction the world they'd created had come. It was like there was fire between them, crackling on their skin. Jenny found herself unable to breathe and Rupert felt himself losing twenty years in the space of a moment, feeling like Ripper again. She made him feel eighteen again, and he made her feel like she'd finally found a place to stop. No more moving, no more hiding – for either of them. It was a magic like nothing either of them had known before, and it wasn't until the early hours of the morning that they collapsed, exhausted, in the cocoon of her double bed. Rupert held her in his arms tightly, his head resting on hers as he breathed in her hair. It smelt like coconut and her skin smelt like chocolate, and he decided then and there they were his two new favourite scents. They had never been so close, and he intended to never let her leave his arms again. Rubbing his thumb slowly across her arms, he closed his eyes. After what felt like an eternity, he drifted to sleep, still holding her close. For a few hours they were peaceful and still, but as the sun came up and light flooded through the window Jenny began to kick. The motion (and the well-aimed blow to his shins) woke Rupert up and he frowned at the look of fear spreading across her face. Then suddenly her eyes flew open.

'RUPERT! RUPERT!' she screamed, before collapsing, sobbing, into his arms.

'Hush, hush. It's ok Jenny, Everything's alright. I'm here, you're safe.' He calmed, as her shoulders shook and his heart ached.

'I'm, so, sorry.' He faintly heard her stutter, and at that he drew his head back. She looked up, and his gut turned over at the sight of the tear tracks winding their way down her face again and the spots of red burning high on her cheeks.

'You have nothing, nothing, to be sorry for.' He said gently but firmly.

'But if I'd told you, if you'd known – '

'Then there would have been something else. And you didn't know yourself, how could you possibly have told us?'

'But I could have guessed – '

'Jenny. You did what you thought was right. It's one of the things I love about you.' She smiled, slightly, to hear her own words repeated back to her, and a small corner of his heart cleared of the darkness. They really would be alright. Somehow he knew.

'Rupert, there's something I have to tell you.'

His face must have betrayed the worry this sentence caused him, because she ducked her head again, frowning. Wary of putting his hands anywhere near her throat (which was already covered in a sobering necklace of purple and black bruises), he made no movement, but let her continue.

'What I was going to tell you yesterday – what Angelus came to the school for – why he tried to kill me. I was trying to – and I could have, I was nearly there – well, I managed to recover the ancient magicks. The curse, Rupert. I was trying to give Angelus his soul back.'

Jenny looked up. Whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been that. His green eyes were wide and he seemed frozen to the bed.

'Rupert?' she tried, and he shook his head slightly and smiled sadly.

'You really are wonderful, you know. You were trying to reverse the curse?'

'No,' she clarified, 'I was trying to recast the curse. My people had – and have – a strange idea of vengeance. Although having met Angel, maybe they were onto something. I was very nearly there as well. I'd just managed to translate the words to the spell when Angelus came in. He must have found out from the magic shop owner. I went there to get an Orb of Thesulah. I hope he's alive, he mentioned he had kids.'

She frowned slightly and sniffed, making a mental note to check on the shop. Then she heard a muttered exclamation from above and looked up.

'What Rupert? What is it?'

'You nearly died because of an Orb of Thesulah?'

She flinched at his bluntness, but he was obviously distracted, running through something in his head. So she nodded.

'Oh Jenny,' he sighed, and held her even closer.

'Rupert, what is it?' she repeated, increasingly confused.

'I have one.'

'You have an Orb of Thesulah?'

'Yes.'

'Where? I've never seen it on your shelves, and you gave me the full guided tour.' She remembered the tour well. It ended with a tour of her very favourite room, and then her new favourite bed, and then – well. She flushed slightly as she heard him, shamefacedly, mutter something above her head, pulling her back to earth.

'What?' she said, assuming she'd heard wrong.

'I've been – I've been using it as a very effective – well, as a paperweight. It's on my desk in the library. Has been for weeks.'

She ran through the full range of emotions. Superficially, this was hilarious. One of the most important elements for the magick of her ancestors, and he'd had it keeping files and record cards in order. But as she snorted the full significance of his words hit her. If she'd known, she wouldn't have gone to the magic shop. If she hadn't gone to the shop, Angelus wouldn't have known what she was trying to do. If he hadn't known – would she have come so close to death last night?

'Oh God' she muttered.

Rupert passed her a tissue from the bedside table, and only then did she realise she was crying again.

'I'll be ok.' She reassured him. 'I'll be fine.'

But he wisely ignored her and just held her through the sobbing, stroking her back and rocking her slightly. They would both be fine, he knew. He just didn't know how long it would take.


	2. Chapter 2

**I hope you enjoyed Chapter One - I couldn't stop, so here you go. This is much more fun than writing essays.**

They couldn't think of a way to tell Buffy. They'd finally left the bed when the growling from their stomachs was too much to ignore, then distracted themselves making pancakes – then got distracted from making the pancakes – but now the sink was piled high with dishes and pans and they were lying sated on the sofa, they began to accept the inevitable.

'She's going to hate me.' Said Jenny in a quiet voice, her head in Rupert's lap and their fingers intertwined.

Rupert brought her hand up to his face and kissed it. She smiled sadly up at him.

'I don't know how she'll take it.' He admitted truthfully. 'I was the one who – ah – delivered the final blow, so to speak. If she blames either of us, she should blame me.'

'Yeah, but you're not the failed protector of the ancient Kalderash curse. I should have stopped him. I didn't.'

'You did your best.' He said firmly. 'Buffy knows that. It just might take her a while to accept it.'

As she set upon the plates, scraping and scrubbing with a vengeance that scared him slightly, Rupert reached for the phone. He'd decided to invite them all over to tell them. This wasn't something that could be done by telephone. They owed Buffy that much.

And so, half an hour later, he was sitting nervously on the sofa waiting for them to arrive while Jenny changed into something less – ripped. His fingers drummed lightly on his leg while his foot tapped out an irregular rhythm. She'd forgive them. She had to forgive them. She had to.

The doorbell rang and he leapt up.

As he opened the door, he let out a silent prayer. Buffy, Willow and Xander stood there, each looking equally perplexed.

'On a Saturday, Giles? Really?' moaned Xander.

'Yeah, I was getting some quality shopping done. For slayer purposes, I mean.' Buffy added.

He removed his glasses and began polishing them with the corner of the faded college t-shirt Jenny had lent him.

'Why don't you all – uh – come in?' he murmured, ignoring the confused looks. He blinked twice, steeling himself.

Shutting the door behind them, he ushered them to the sofa.

'Uh, Giles?' Buffy said, perching herself on one of the arms. 'If this is Ms Calendar's place – and I still don't understand why we're here by the way – then where is Ms Calendar?'

'Just coming!' Jenny called from her room as she finished buttoning up the shirt she'd haphazardly thrown on. Ignoring Xander's snickering – and the blow to the arm he received from Buffy – she walked in and made a beeline for Rupert. He put his arm around her waist and they looked at each other nervously.

'What is it?' said Buffy. 'Please say there aren't going to be any baby Giles's running around soon. I don't think I can cope with more tweed.'

But it was Willow, previously silent, who noticed the glance the adults shared and then, as her eyes shifted, the marks around Jenny's neck.

'Ms Calendar – are you ok? Where are those bruises from?' she asked quietly, and Jenny took a deep breath in, closing her eyes.

'Buffy – we're so, so sorry. All of you, we're sorry.' She muttered. Rupert squeezed her side slightly.

'What is it?' the teenager asked, her joking tone entirely gone. 'What happened?'

Rupert took the helm. 'It was Angelus, Buffy. He – he came after Ms Calendar at the school last night. We think he, uh – well, we know he was trying to – trying to kill her.'

Willow let out a strangled gasp, clasping her hand to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. Xander looked murderous, his joking tone entirely gone. 'Where is he?' the boy muttered. 'We'll find him and kill him for this. I told you, I told all of you it just was a matter of time. Are you all right, Ms Calendar?' Jenny nodded slightly, and he smiled grimly.

But Rupert maintained eye contact with Buffy, whose face was frozen in realization. 'You won't have to do anything, Xander.' She intoned, unblinking. 'He's already dead. Isn't he?'

Rupert looked down, and Jenny, realising his strength was fading, took the helm.

'Yes, he is. I'm so sorry.'

'Don't be.' Xander said harshly. 'He deserved it.'

'Shut up Xander.' Willow muttered, shooting a quick glare at him and a worried look at Buffy, who was still immobile.

'How?' the Slayer said, still monotone. Jenny froze. 'I said, how?' she repeated, with no change in her voice.

'He was staked.' Jenny said simply, not wanting to mention Rupert's name in the same sentence.

But there was no point. Buffy could connect the dots as well as anyone there.

'He was about to kill you, so Giles staked him?'

Closing her eyes, Jenny nodded as Rupert took a deep breath next to her before looking up. Buffy's eyes were full of tears but they had turned to stone. Her face was frozen without a trace of sadness. Only anger was etched across her features, and it scared him more.

'I'm sorry.' He murmured.

'Don't be', came the flippant response, 'You only did what I didn't have the guts to do. Now you two can live happily ever after. Congratulations.'

And with that, Buffy grabbed the bag sitting by her ankles and got up to leave.

'Buffy –' he tried calling after her, but it was too late. With a rattle of its hinges, the door slammed. She was gone.

Willow and Xander left shortly after, and Jenny and Rupert were alone again. Unsure and on edge, he reverted to his default calming method and began to make tea. The process - choosing the blend, filling the strainer, rinsing the tea pot - was distracting, and for a minute he managed to forget. Jenny's upbringing travelling around Eastern Europe had given her some strange tea preferences, and he almost enjoyed himself for a moment smelling the many sachets dotted around the cupboards and guessing at their contents. But soon he was done and the kettle still refused to boil ('what do Americans have against electric kettles?' he muttered darkly at it). As he waited, the clouds began to fill his head again. He was standing with his arms tense on the sideboard, waiting for the eventual whistle when he felt her come up behind him. Jenny slipped her hands around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

'You did what you had to.' She said quietly.

'But Buffy loved him. Still loves him. She might never forgive me for this.'

'She loved Angel, not Angelus. She knows you had no choice.'

He nodded minutely. 'I saw red, Jenny. Maybe there was something else I could have done, something that would have spared him until you could restore his soul but I - I saw him with his hands around your neck and I snapped. I thought I'd lose you.'

Jenny smiled sadly. 'I could feel his hands tensing, ready to - well, ready. He was about to kill me, Rupert. There was nothing else you could have done, and even if he had got out alive, where would he have gone next? If it hasn't been me, someone would have died last night. You didn't even know I was planning to restore his soul. I don't even know if it was possible. You did what you had to.'

He nodded, and she hoped he believed her. Turning around, he gently cupped her face in his hands and she stared into his eyes. They were turbulent, angry and sad - but they were clear, and she knew he was beginning to accept what he'd done. His green eyes roamed around her face hungrily, as if trying to capture every detail for posterity. She saw something burning behind the clear green and the intensity of it made her blush. Honestly, if he could do this to her with eye contact...

Rupert stared back at her, still amazed beyond belief that they were both here. That they were both alive. That they were both in love. His eyes took in the ring around her neck, now fading to a mottled green, and the distinctive thumb prints over her jugular. She was biting her lip as she gazed at him, and even that small action made him want to wrap her in cotton wool, away from any danger (while simultaneously enacting some of his more - vivid - fantasies. She really brought out his normally very well hidden side). Moving up, his eyes met hers and he noted with some amusement that she blushed slightly. Her eyes were like chocolate, but bright and sparkling. There was comfort, and hope, and strength in them. He moved closer, wanting to drown in them if he could, but before they knew what was happening the kettle was finally boiling. He laughed softly under his breath, and moved slightly to remove it.

Jenny had different ideas. Raising an eyebrow, she moved her arms slowly up his sides and drew him towards her.

'Tea can wait' she muttered, before tilting her head up and gently sliding her hands around the back of his head. Smiling, he leaned down and kissed her. The fire burnt, and he lost himself for a moment.

After an eternity he felt the kettle jumping off the hob, and he reluctantly broke their kiss to move it. That done, he turned back and gazed at her again.

'I love you, Jenny Calendar.' He said softly.

She smiled, eyes shining. 'And I love you, Rupert Giles. All of you, no exceptions. Always.'

It was three hours later, and no one had seen Buffy. Rupert had called Joyce, wanting to make sure she was alright, but she told him Buffy was at Willow's. He'd given some excuse about a history test, and she hasn't seemed to question it. He wondered if anyone in this town believed he was a librarian. Naturally, when that proved a dead end he called Willow, who hasn't seen or heard from Buffy since she left Jenny's that morning. He wouldn't have worried normally - she was a slayer, she was probably slaying as stress relief - but something about the look in her eyes when she left had unnerved him. He was busy pacing post the sofa for the hundredth time when Jenny looked up from her computer at him, sighing.

'Rupert, you need to get out of here. Go look for her, I'll come too if you want. Just do something to put your mind at rest. She's not hiding under the carpet, you won't find her by wearing it out.'

He nodded. 'But Jenny, what if she doesn't want to be found?'

'She probably doesn't, or she would have told you where she was going. But you'll go mad worrying about her.' He nodded again and reached for his car keys when there was a knock at the door. They looked at each other, and Jenny moved across the room to answer it. Grabbing a stake from its place by the door, she opened it. Buffy stood in front of them.

Relief washed over him, and he saw Jenny's shoulders lower as well. But that relief was tempered with what he heard next.

'You shouldn't have killed him.' Her voice was acidic, sharp as steel. Her face was stone.

'Buffy, I-'

'There must have been something else you could have done, anything that would have stopped him, but you didn't have to kill him. How could you do that to him? To Me? He was the love of my life!'

'I'm sorry Buffy. I know you must be angry, and I understand, but –'

'Tell me what happened.' She continued, just as cold as before.

He froze. 'Buffy, I - I -'

'I know he wasn't the man I loved anymore, but I can't stop picturing it and I need to know. Please', She said, voice finally breaking, 'please tell me.'

He nodded resignedly.

'You should sit down.'

Buffy opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. She carefully sat on the plush armchair as he moved to the sofa. She'd changed into her dungarees. That was a bad sign.

Jenny, still observing from the door, came over to sit by him. She reached for his hands, and taking a deep breath he begun.

'Jenny was working late at school,' - He looked at her for a second then, and they silently agreed not to tell Buffy about the curse - 'and we were going to meet up to talk things through, when I - for some reason - decided to go back. It was an impulse I'm glad I followed. When I got there, the computer room was on fire.'

Jenny took over. 'Angelus had set my computer on fire. I managed to get out the room, but he was chasing me all around the school. I knew I couldn't escape, but I thought I'd make it difficult for him anyway. I was getting tired though, and he kept getting closer. Then I heard Rupert.'

Her voice broke softly, and his heart ached. 'I ran towards him, but Angelus caught me. He lifted me off the ground and he had his hands around my neck.' She saw Buffy's eyes flit quickly to the necklace of angry bruises and she nodded. 'He was about to - about to - kill me.' She stopped, her breathing becoming rapid as she remembered the feeling of his fingers grasping and her throat closing. As she fought for control, Rupert rubbed her back gently, calming her. As he did, he spoke.

'I came round the corner and saw him holding Jenny. Buffy, I snapped. I grabbed my backup stake, and I - I killed him. He went quickly.'

'You didn't.' She muttered, looking down

'What?' He said, panicked a vampire hell bent on vengeance was coming for them.

'Technically speaking. He was already dead.'

'Oh, well, yes - of course.'

She looked at them, and he saw the tears begging to fall. Still stony eyed, she asked 'Why you? Why did he go after you?'

Jenny flinched. 'He was trying to - send a message. He went into Rupert's flat and he - left things. Flowers, music. We think he was trying to stage - something. I - my body- was going to be the centrepiece.'

Buffy nodded. 'Can I see it?'

The drive there passed in a dead silence. Jenny was barely keeping control of her breathing as they got closer, and Rupert did his best to calm her by stroking her hands, but it proved difficult while driving. Buffy sat on the back, saying nothing.

Finally they got there, and as they left the car he turned to Jenny.

'Darling, you don't need to come in. You can wait here, I'll clear as much as I can. Please don't feel you have to be there.'

'I think I do, Rupert.' She replied. 'I think I need to know it's over as much as Buffy needs to know what happened.'

He unlocked the door and stepped in. Everything was as it had been the night before, down to the champagne bottle smashed on the floor where he'd dropped it in horror. The roses exuded their cloying perfume, and he realised at that point he would never be able to enjoy them again.

He'd been planning this for her. She would have been the grand finale. Jenny looked around the room, taking in the record player set up with what looked like La Boheme - her favourite, somehow he must have known that – then the broken roses and the cursive similar to her own with the simple word 'Upstairs'. Reeling, she clutched the sofa, holding herself up. Rupert, anxiously watching her, moved towards her when they heard Buffy retch.

'Oh God' muttered the slayer, running to the door and unceremoniously heaving outside. Rupert moved to go to her, then stopped, turning and looking at Jenny. Her knuckles were white on the sofa as she gave him a strained smile and nodded.

'I'll manage. Make sure Buffy's ok.'

He nodded tightly and went to the slayer.

Jenny watched as he tentatively knelt down next to the prone teenager and reached over, grasping her shoulder. She heard Buffy sob as she turned to him, burying her head in his chest. Rupert held her tightly, saying nothing but rubbing her back as she wailed. She couldn't make out Buffy's face, hidden in the t-shirt, but she could see Rupert and he looked devastated. No father could have felt more for her, she was sure. He was in agony just as she was. Jenny turned away, unable to watch. After a few minutes she heard a muffled whisper broken by a sob and turned around. Buffy was standing, Rupert holding her by the shoulders. The teenager sniffed, and tried again.

'I'm so sorry Ms Calendar. I should have stopped him sooner. This is so – so grim. So cold. So calculated. It wasn't Angel. It can't have been him. He couldn't have done this.'

Jenny shook her head quickly, her heart aching for the girl.

'No, I'm sorry Buffy. I should have told you about the curse sooner, then none of this would've happened in the first place. Whatever he was at the end, that wasn't how you knew him. Don't remember him like this.' She knew, as well as Giles did, that Angelus and Angel were one and the same. However unpalatable the idea, it was sadly also undeniable. The soul made a difference, certainly, but the mind that created this tableau of horror was the same that professed eternal love to the teenager. But if Buffy needed to believe – or pretend, she wasn't sure – that they were entirely different, she wouldn't say anything. Looking at Rupert, she saw he felt the same by the small smile he gave her.

Buffy nodded, sniffing again. 'I just can't believe it. I don't know when it'll feel real.'

'It takes time.' Rupert said softly, cleaning his glasses.

'He's really gone.' The slayer said, and it wasn't a question. Jenny realised where the girl had been for the last few hours. No wonder she hasn't wanted then to find her.

Buffy shook her head. 'I think I need to get home. Mom thinks I'm studying at Willow's.'

Giles nodded. 'Yes, I know. So does Willow.'

She nodded, frowning, and got up to go.

'Giles –'she started, and he looked up.

'Yes?'

'I do understand. I can't forgive you yet, but I do understand, and I will. Just give me time.'

He nodded slowly, and she left.

Jenny walked over to him and put a hand on his arm. His head was bowed, and she realised he was crying.

'She will forgive you, Rupert. I can see it in her eyes.'

Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. 'If I'd lost you, I'm not sure I'd ever have recovered.' He confessed. 'I'd have hunted him down, gone after him myself. I can't -' He stopped, and she felt a single tear land on her cheek. Hers or his, she didn't know. It didn't matter.

'I know.' She said simply. 'Me neither.'

They cleared the house together, dumping the roses in a bin liner and throwing the note in too for good measure. Every so often Jenny spotted him wiping away a tear, and she felt herself doing the same. They opened the windows to clear the cloying scent and changed the sheets on the bed, throwing away the ones Angelus had used for his tableau. He tried to throw away the record, but she stopped him.

'It's a good version. One day, maybe.' So instead he slid it back onto the shelves and took the bag round to the front, leaving it on the kerb. His house was clean again, and Jenny stood, alive and well in the middle of it. All was well for now.


	3. Chapter 3

When her screaming woke them up again on Sunday morning, Jenny began to wonder if she would ever recover. Rupert held her close as her shoulders shook and she desperately tried to blot the images out of her mind, but they wouldn't clear. She could feel the sweat dripping off her forehead, yet her skin felt deathly cold, almost corpse like. She desperately tried to focus on something in the room, eventually settling for a print of the Grand Canyon she'd bought at Burning Man. She stared at it, trying to image her and Rupert flying overhead. His smiling face. The burning sun on her back and arms. The pain in her legs. Anything that reminded her she was alive.

They were back at hers. Neither of them had been able to face sleeping in the same room that horrific tableau had been intended for. Jenny knew they would have to face it sooner or later, but for now it was easier to ignore the problem. There were, after all, more pressing ones. As her shaking subsided and the tears eased, Jenny began to cry in earnest.

'Rupert, what if I never get over this? It's not getting any easier.'

He rubbed her back and hummed thoughtfully. 'Jenny, it's Sunday. You were – Angelus – well, it was Friday. It's been two days. You're doing fine.'

'But every time I sleep, every time I close my eyes – it's – it's like he's there. Watching me. When I look in a mirror I see the outline of his hands. Then I wake up screaming.'

'That will fade, with time.'

'I know, but –'

'It takes time, Jenny. It's like getting over – uh – significant others, or falling in love. It takes time, and no one ever knows how much time is enough. It's different for everyone. It'll get better eventually, I promise.'

She nodded, trying to accept the wisdom in his words, then paused and registered what he'd said. A smirk crept onto her face, and she ducked to hide it from him. 'Significant others?'

He blustered. 'Well, yes. I mean, as you all keep pointing out, I am – well, I am practically ancient. It would be strange – if – well. Yes. But I promise you, none of them were ever significant to me like you are.'

Jenny lifted her head and smiled at him. 'I don't mind Rupert, I understand. But actually, it's the same for me. No one else has ever been half as significant to me as you are. For starters, none of them have saved my life. And none of them had such a preoccupation with tweed.'

He chuckled softly. 'And no one else has ever taken me to a monster truck rally. You certainly win an award for that, my dear. I suppose we both know rather well how to, uh - make an impression.'

'Now that,' she said, lazily stretching out against him and rolling so she covered him under the sheets, 'is not something I would disagree with.'

In an abandoned factory on the other side of town, Spike wheeled in to find Drusilla crouched on the floor, keening as she rocked back and forth on her heels. He rushed over and tried to pull her upright, but she was like rock. Cold, immovable granite.

'Dru, baby, what's wrong?' he said, looking round to see if there was anyone about. Anyone who could have done this to her, he'd kill them and if possible draw it out for each painful second - but he drew a blank. The room was empty. Well, nearly empty. The body of a young woman lay in the corner and he wondered briefly if she was completely drained. He fancied a snack. Maybe there was something left in the fridge from the hospital delivery last week. That was a good batch, although too clean for his normal tastes.

Drusilla's wailing brought him back to earth as she began to hit her head repeatedly on the ground. Pulling her away with all his strength, he lifted her head up and looked at her.

'My Angel, my Angel, he's not coming back for tea.' He managed to make out in between sobs. Frowning, he tilted his head slightly while still holding hers.

'It's only been a day Dru, he might have just gone on an errand.'

But still she shook her head, and he realised the truth suddenly as another wail shook her thin frame. He froze, torn between a smirk and sob.

'Have you had a vision pet?'

She nodded, her mouth wide open in a silent moan.

Spike hummed thoughtfully. Angelus gone. No more of that wanker walking through his place, Spike's place, like it belonged to him. No more flirting with his Dru while he sat there, quietly regaining his strength. No more unending plans for apocalypse. He liked the world just the way it had been before Angelus had shown up. Americanised git. For a second he felt a flash of sadness. Angelus taught him so much. They really had been a team. The things they had done – but he stopped himself quickly. Now everything could go right again between him and Dru. Everything would be fine. He hoped.

'How did he go? Slayer and stake or something more – modern?'

But now Drusilla began shaking her head and raised herself from the ground, staggering to the side. Spike continued to watch as she picked up the doll sitting on the end of the table and stared into its eyes.

'Miss Edith says she will not be forgiven, she says there is no cake left for any of us.'

He sighed slightly. 'Does she Dru? What else does she say?'

Drusilla threw the doll to the ground and turned to him, her face tear streaked and rabid. 'The stars are hiding their fires and it's pouring into me. My angel, my angel, caught in fire –' she broke off again and Spike, torn between worry for her and curiosity at Angel's fate, sat tight. Clutching her hands to her head, Drusilla sank to her knees again and looked at him.

'It was him, that man.'

'The idiot?'

'The one like us, the one who watches them. The fire was in him and it burnt its way out, but now it's in me and oh, Spike' - she paused and he shuddered in anticipation and arousal – 'it's in me and it burns so bright.'

Moving towards her in the space of a second (faster than he'd thought possible in this infernal contraption), he clutched her to him and smiled. 'Let it burn pet, let it burn. We'll burn the hearts out of them for this.'

The Monday afterwards was one of the worst working days Rupert Giles had ever faced. Jenny insisted on going back to work, but within five minutes of arriving, Snyder had found them. He was boiling water for his tea and Jenny's disgusting instant coffee when he heard a muffled cough behind him. Grimacing, he turned round.

"Mr Giles, have you seen Ms Calendar today? I am reliably informed you arrived together this morning."

"Then you must be aware that I have, in fact, seen her. I believe she's visiting the bathroom, I was just preparing coffee for her now."

"Ah, well, Mr Giles, I –"

But as the odorous man began his prepared spiel, Jenny appeared behind him. Rupert did his best to hide his smile, but evidently his best was considerably sub-par as Snyder quickly turned around, prompting a echoing grimace for Jenny.

"Ms Calendar, I've been looking for you."

Pasting a fake smile on, Jenny frowned questioningly at him. "Well, I haven't been hard to find then."

"No, indeed. Are you aware of the damage to your computer lab? I arrived this morning to see three broken computers and the marks of what appears to have been a small electronic fire, as well as a broken door. Did you notice anything strange when you left on Friday?"

He met Jenny's eyes. They had discussed what exactly to tell Snyder, and both had agreed the simplest plan was to tell him nothing. Discussing assailants would only lead to questions about who and why, and how Rupert had known – as well as why they hadn't told anyone sooner.

"Oh God, I had no idea!" Jenny lied, putting on an impressively convincing face. "I only just got in, but I'll be right through to see how bad the damage is. When you say computers, do you mean broken monitors, or hard drives as well? Do you have any idea who did it? Will I still be teaching today?"

She collected her coffee from him, shooting a small smile as she did, then walked out, attacking Snyder with a barrage of questions. He almost felt sorry for the repellent creature – he certainly looked confused and disappointed not to have caught her out.

But from then on the day only got worse. Willow and Xander came in that morning to ask if he'd seen Buffy, and he told them – briefly – about the events of yesterday. He knew the boy meant well, but Xander's comments were beginning to grate on him, and, he could see, on Willow too. Ushering them out before class began, he assured both of them that Buffy would be alright and that they'd all have to be there for her.

Then he waited. The almost terrifyingly slow trickle of students came through, as normal, but with no sign of the slayer. When it reached lunch he was briefly torn as to whether or not to leave, but his need to check on Jenny overrode any logical argument and within seconds of the bell he found himself waiting outside the computer lab. She was sitting at her desk, tapping her pen on the desk and staring off into space. There was no sign of any students.

He knocked quietly, trying not to scare her. She jumped slightly anyway, turning to face him with what he recognised as fear in her eyes.

"Thank God Rupert, it's you." She breathed.

He stepped inside the room, noting the smoke marks on the walls and ceiling as well as the conspicuous absence of three computers.

She noticed him looking and snorted slightly. "Hooligans and crystal meth, apparently. This town really has the wool permanently drawn over its eyes. Snyder's replacing the monitors and the room's getting a paint job."

"And how are you?" he asked, gingerly sitting at one of the desks.

Jenny smiled slightly at the sight of Rupert at a computer, but only fleetingly.

"I've been better. I keep seeing this shadow at the back of the room and thinking it's him, but it's just smoke. I mean, I'm glad I'm here. I've been happy here, I don't want it to be just about him. But it does scare me Rupert. Even if he can't come back."

He nodded, wishing he could take her hand across their desks. As he opened his mouth to comfort her, Willow came running in and he stopped, standing up quickly as he saw the panic on her face.

"I've just been round to her house and Giles, Buffy's gone to hospital! Apparently she's really sick with flu and so her mom took her in!"

Definitely one of his worse working days.


End file.
